Here’s my post for this week’s Six Sentence Sunday, from my work in progress:
I have nothing to offer her, no way to win against the horde of rogues racing to their deaths, and the subsequent branch of para’s chasing the humans. I hate to fight.
Against my will, I feel the fiery burn as my clothes drop away. The rush of adrenaline flows through me—scintillating, arousing, powerful. My bones shift, transforming arms into wings, flesh into fire, and common sense into passionate fury. Lifting into the sky with a rush, one thought consumes me:
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